


Don't Pretend This is Okay

by astrivikia



Series: A Favor & The Consequences [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, But not in a sexual way - Freeform, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Friends don't use friends as human juiceboxes, Gen, Loopy Jeremy is the best part of this fic, Not Doc Friendly?, Set in a vaguely season 3 adjacent time, This is 90 percent angst and 10 percent Jeremy being a dork, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampire Bites, Vampire Doc Holliday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrivikia/pseuds/astrivikia
Summary: When Doc asked Jeremy for help, Jeremy didn't realize what he was getting himself into.





	Don't Pretend This is Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the friends who gave me feedback and listened to me ramble while I worked on this! And especially thank you to [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing) for betaing for me, and [KittyKarnstein96](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKarnstein96/pseuds/KittyKarnstein96) for helping me throughout the process.

“What the…” Jeremy stared at his phone, eyebrows knitting together at the notification.  He leaned back in his chair, slowly swiveling around.

_1 new text from Doc Holliday._

Since when did Doc text?  More importantly, since when did Doc text him?  He just stared at it for a long moment, his chair making a full circle back to his original position before he pressed the toe of his shoe against the floor.  It made an aggravating squeak, the chair coming to a stop.

He let out a breath, clicking on the notification.

_I need you. Shorty’s._

If Jeremy’s brain could physically produce a record scratch noise, he was sure it would have in that moment.  He was not going to overthink this, he wasn’t. This wasn’t Doc saying— He squashed that thought before it could play out.

This was just Doc typing as little as he needed to in order to get his point across.

He typed out a quick reply as he stood up.

_Ya, no prob.  Be right there._

No prob?  Why did he hit send on that?  Too late now. He picked up his coat.  If supernatural beings didn’t kill him first, then his awkwardness would, of that he was certain.

The trip to Shorty’s wasn’t long, but his brain provided a running commentary that made the passage of time seem very skewed.  Jeremy really wished his thoughts would slow down.

Why didn’t he ask any follow up questions?  If he was walking into a dangerous situation it’d be better if he knew.  Scratch that, if it was a dangerous situation why would Doc contact him.

So no, probably not dangerous.  But this was Purgatory.

Jeremy took a moment to note the closed sign in Shorty’s window, before cautiously pushing open the door.

He’d been here plenty of times outside of regular hours, but the quiet never failed to put him on high alert.

He chalked it up to the fact that he regularly dealt with supernatural entities, but in his books eerily quiet places were never good news.  Especially not ones getting progressively darker as the sun slipped below the horizon.

Orange light filtered through the windows, catching in the bottles and sending a patchwork of colors glittering across the room in a weird, rustic mockery of stained glass.

He jumped at the sudden noise of the door creaking shut behind him.

“Doc?”  His voice fell oddly flat in the empty room, making his skin crawl.

“Jeremy, I see you received my digital correspondence.”  Not quite empty. Doc was leaning against the bar, mostly in shadow.  Something seemed off about the way he was holding himself, but he brushed it off.

“Ya, text message is- you can just call it-”  He shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head.  “Nevermind, I— uh, what’s up?”

He made his way down the steps into the main room, frowning slightly as he noticed Doc watching him closely, tracking his movements.  It was unsettling.

Part of Jeremy wondered if it wouldn’t be too late to come up with an excuse to leave.  He tamped down the impulse. He hadn’t even found out what Doc wanted yet.

It’s just nerves.  This was Doc, this was fine.

It was probably only ten seconds of silence all in all, but Jeremy kept talking when a response from Doc wasn’t forthcoming.  It was that or deal with his thoughts and he’d really rather not do that right now.

“You uh, you said you… needed me?”  He gestured uncertainly with one hand, a moment of horror crossing his thoughts as he made a finger gun.  He should have kept his hands in his pockets. A strained smile plastered itself on his face.

What was he doing, what was he doing?

If Jeremy hadn’t been so caught up in his own thoughts he might have noticed the way Doc’s expression flickered between unease and something else.

“I am most certain that those are the words I typed.”  There was an undercurrent of impatience to the words. Doc didn’t look directly at him, and Jeremy could feel the tension of something very pointedly left unsaid in the air.

“Hey, is everything… okay here?”  He cocked his head to the side.

“It is decidedly not.  And I am afraid you are not going to like what I am about to ask of you.” Doc’s blue gaze caught his, the sheer hunger in the look pinning Jeremy in place.  He stopped short, a good several feet still between them as his brain connected the dots.

Sure, he’d known Doc had been turned, but knowing that, and actually accepting it on an intellectual level were two different things.  His heartbeat stuttered in his chest, alarm bells blaring in his head as Doc’s gaze slid down to his neck.

“Wait wait wait wait, back up.”  Jeremy took a step back, voice lowering to a harsh whisper as he snapped, “If you are about to ask what I think you’re about to ask, first of all that is _so_ crossing a line, and second of all the answer is no, so don’t even.”  

His gaze was deadly serious, even as his body language indicated his fight or flight response was currently warring inside him.

“I need to feed.” Doc’s voice was low, an unnerving intensity to his words.  “And I assure you it will be best for everyone if I am still in full control of my actions when that happens.”

“Full contr— are you serious right now!”  His voice rose an octave. “You really expect me to believe that?  You’re clearly not—” Jeremy shook his head, hands gesturing helplessly.  He let out a shaky breath, running a hand over his face. “This is so not what I signed up for when you said you needed help!”

There was a slight glimmer of amusement on Doc’s face, which Jeremy would probably find endearing under different circumstances.  As it is, he can feel his anxiety spiking, especially when Doc steps closer.

“Now I do not recall bringing you a document.”  Jeremy’s expression twisted in annoyance, and he took another step back to regain the distance.  Of all the flippant things to say.

“That’s not— okay, you know what—” He cringed, as he stumbled over his words, too shaky to have any sort of impact. He pointed an accusatory finger.  “Don’t get cute, you know that’s not what I meant.”

Doc raised an eyebrow in a show of innocence.

“Stop trying to distract me!”  It came out a bit too much like a whine at the end.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Jeremy?”

 Shit, Doc was in his personal space, when did he get that close?!  Jeremy stumbled as he backed into the steps, wincing as he caught himself on the railing.  His breathing hitched and, okay, he might have been panicking a bit.  
  
He barely registered that Doc had reached out a hand when he nearly fell — that is, until Doc had a hold of his elbow, steering him gently away from the stairs and coincidentally further back into the room.  Jeremy jerked out of his grip.

“I mean that you want to drink my blood!”  The words came out as a screechy sort of whisper as he put some distance back between them.  Doc didn’t make a move to follow, seeming to deliberate on his words.

_"Want_ is not an eloquent way to describe my view of the situation at hand.”

Jeremy’s brain took a moment to process the words.  “I feel like I should be offended by that?” he said, almost to himself, nose scrunching in confusion.

“Jeremy.”  Exasperation laced his words as he made a move toward him.  He seemed to think better of it when Jeremy flinched back, throwing his hands up in the sign of the cross as if that would help him.

The vampire let out an aggravated breath, unimpressed.  After a moment he held up a placating hand.

“I will admit that I did not expect you to like this—“

“If you’re trying to be persuasive right now, wayyy off the mark.”

“You are testing my patience, Jeremy.”  The words sounded like a warning. Jeremy ignored it, already emotionally done with this situation.

“No, Doc.”  He straightened up, squaring his shoulders.  “You’re testing my patience, this isn’t just something you ask your friends!  This isn’t just some run of the mill favor, even for us! This— you’re talking about my blood!”

Doc’s words got more heated as he stepped closer, getting into Jeremy’s space.  “If you think I take pleasure in this situation, you are sorely mistaken.” Jeremy caught a hint of something, regret or guilt maybe, in Doc’s blue eyes before he looked away.  “I am asking you because you are my friend.”

Jeremy stilled when Doc rested a hand on his shoulder, a heaviness falling over his heart when he realized he really didn’t believe him, as much as he wanted to.

Breathing out a heavy breath, he shook his head.  The fire had left his words as he replied, “You know, I really wish I believed that.”  He just sounded sad, then. “But uh, I know better. No, you asked me because...” He shrugged. “I was the easy target.  We both know it. I— I have the least combat ability, have way too big of a hero complex when it comes to you.” He let out a humorless little laugh.  “Y’know, that actually just makes this so much worse?”

“Jeremy.”  Doc’s voice was soft.

“Don’t, just— don’t, okay.”  Oh god, his voice was breaking.

“Jeremy, please look at me.”  

He reluctantly lifted his gaze.

“I apologize for my… less than forthright methods of getting you to come here.  But it is still the case that I need your help.” Doc squeezed his shoulder, and Jeremy was suddenly aware of the fact that he was essentially backed up against the bar.  “Jeremy, there is a very real possibility that I will hurt someone if you do not help me.”

“Ya, but Doc, if you do this—“  He hesitated, fear prickling hot across his skin.  

“I am asking you.”  Jeremy can’t deal with that sincere tone.  He can’t—

“Do you even know when to stop?  This is serious.” Every instinct in his body was telling him to run. 

He didn’t expect he would get anywhere if he tried.  Would Doc even let him leave? If he was being honest with himself he felt like it’d be more painful to find out the answer was no than to not know.  And what if he did, and then tomorrow Jeremy found out someone was dead.

 “I have no intention to harm you.”  Jeremy couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t actually an answer to his question.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a sense of dread washing over him as he felt his resistance fading.  He let out a slow breath before reopening his eyes. He didn’t feel like there was much of a choice as he said in a trembling voice, “I— alright.  God, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“I am much obliged, Jeremy.”

He only nodded in response.  His stomach was twisting itself into knots.

“I can hear your heart racing,” Doc said in a low voice. His eyes traced over him and Jeremy wanted to shrink away.

Instead he shut his eyes again, trying to stay calm. He couldn't — didn't want to — look at Doc as it happened.   The hand on his shoulder trailed up, fingers catching under his chin, tilting his head to the side. He shivered at the touch.

“Doc, I—”

“I assure you,” Doc's whisper was very close, “everything is going to be fine.” He could feel his breath against his neck.

Jeremy's breathing hitched, a hand rising to grip Doc's forearm.  He wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve with the action.

It wasn’t like he was a stranger to pain, but that didn’t make it any easier when he knew what was coming.  If anything, the anticipation made it worse.

Of all the stupid things to be thinking about right then, his mind jumped to when he was on the receiving end of a stapler.  Except this was going to be on his neck and he had a feeling it was going to hurt a lot more and—

His eyes flew open as he felt the sharp sting of fangs sinking into his neck.  A whimper escaped his throat, his hand tightening to a death grip on Doc’s arm.  Not that the vampire seemed to care, or even notice.

There was something wholly unnerving about your pulse feeding into something, someone, that was not you.  His senses were alarmingly focused on that single point, the pain ebbing and flowing with his heartbeat.

In a lesser sense, he was aware of where Doc’s hands had a grip on him, the action very possessive.  Pinned, trapped, not going anywhere. Not that he felt like he would have been able to move if he wanted to.  

He felt frozen in place, and the fangs in his neck pretty much ensured stillness, lest he end up with a fatal wound.

His breathing got faster, shaky and shallow.  He was being fed on, that was his blood. The sensation wasn't coherent, hot and painful and sticky and wet and very very not nice.  He wasn't too sure how clear his sense of time was. All he knew was this was wrong, bad, it hurt and he wanted it to stop.

It wasn't stopping.  

He shuddered, a whimper escaping him without his permission.  He felt ill, mind stuck in a loop of heartbeat and blood.

His vision swam, a dull ache building in his temples.  He blinked hazily, trying to focus.

Jeremy got a sense of muted panic as the pain began to get more distant.  
  
He should care more about that, but he felt a hazy sense of calm settling over his brain.  He felt like his head was stuffed with cotton, and it wasn't all that nice.   
  
Nope.  He pressed weakly at Doc's shoulder.  "Hey, stoppp."   
  
He tried again to blink away the way his vision seemed to be spinning.   
  
"Hey." He swatted at the side of Doc's face, the action clumsy.  "Be a good vampire, stoppit, it's important."

A soft growl, then, after... a moment?  He wasn't sure, the fangs withdrew.

He uncertainly pressed a hand to the side of his neck, blinking in confusion at the very minimal two points of blood on his palm when he drew it away.

“Didn't like that,” he murmured absently.  He hardly noticed the soft sound in the background until he found something soft pressed against the wound.  Fabric? Some kind of fabric.

His hand rose back to it, settling over Doc's.  Right, Doc.

He blinked at the vampire in front of him.  Doc seemed to be watching him very intently.

“Are you quite alright?”

“Juice.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Blood sugar.”  That wasn't, he needed to be using his words.  He frowned, forehead scrunching in thought.

“I'm afraid I have no earthly clue what you are trying to tell me.” Doc's head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing in concern.

Jeremy raised a finger, aiming to tap Doc's nose and hitting his cheek instead.  “You've got blood on your face.” He swayed, catching himself on Doc's shoulder.

A moment of disorientation and then Jeremy realized he'd been picked up.  “I believe you need to sit down.”

“I need juice,” he reiterated, slumping against the cushion of the booth he'd been placed in.  His hand gestured clumsily. “When they take blood they give you juice. Blood sugar, hydration, helps.”

“I will see what I can find.”

“Cookie too.  Like blood drives.”

“Jeremy, this is a bar, not a patisserie.  Shorty's does not sell cookies.”

“Well, you don't sell blood here, either, and yet here we are.” An aggravated sigh rose from Doc.

“Don't be mean to me, I gave you my blood.”

“A fact I am well aware of.”

"That was my blood, I spent energy to create that, you know,” Jeremy continued to ramble.  His brain to mouth filter was shot.

Doc’s voice drifted back to him from somewhere out of view.  "The human body is truly amazing."

A beat of silence.  "Are you mocking me?"  He rolled his head to the side, trying to see Doc, and realizing the booth made that impossible.

“Why, I would _never.”_

“See, now I know you’re mocking me,” Jeremy fidgeted with the edge of the fabric pressed against the bite, wincing slightly as his fingers brushed over the wound.  “Where’s my juice?” There was a whine to his tone.

“You need to give me a minute Jeremy.”

“I needed all my blood to stay _in_ my body, but whoops.”  A loopy giggle. “Hey, if you don’t have cookies, this is a bar, do you have nuts?  Bars have peanuts right?”

“Pray tell, why peanuts?”

“It’s uh, the y’know, replenishing, it’s some specific vitamins.  Y’know, important stuff.” His eyes fluttered closed for a second.  Or he thought it was a second. He vaguely heard a reply. Then—

“Hey.”

He jumped at the noise of fingers snapping in front of his face.  His hand had slid to rest on the table, but the fabric, was it a handkerchief, pressed to his neck had stayed put.  He blinked blearily up at Doc.

“Drink this, and do _not_ nod off like that again.”  Doc pressed the cup into his hand, making sure he had a hold of it before withdrawing his own grip.

Jeremy made an unimpressed face after taking a sip. "It's bitter."

"Cranberry juice was the best we had.  I did, however, get you peanuts."

Jeremy eyed him skeptically, before glancing at a bowl of peanuts sitting on the table.  There was a biscotti sitting next to it. "I want apple juuuuice."

"For God's sake, Jeremy.”  A slow breath out. “I do not have apple juice, just drink it."  He spoke slowly, like he was addressing a child.

Jeremy muttered sulkily to himself, "I do you a favor and you don't even have good juice."  He didn’t notice Doc rolling his eyes.

"Will you please stop complaining about the juice?"

Jeremy pouted slightly, cradling the cup in his hands.  A silence settled over the two of them, Doc sitting across from him in the booth and watching him.  Jeremy noticed his hands trembled slightly as he grabbed a peanut.

"Hey, am I dying?"

Doc stared at him.  “Now whatever would give you th— don’t answer that.  No, I do not believe your blood loss is that severe. You’ll be fine.”

"Ya but you're not a doctor doc, how do you knowww.”  He dragged out the end of the last word, making a pitiful attempt at banging his hand on the table as he went on. “I’m the scientist here.”

“That may well be, but you are acting like a child.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, debating the pros and cons of throwing a peanut at him.  He frowned across the table at Doc, who held up a hand in innocence.

“I am only stating the truth.”

“If you’re just going to be mean to me, I’ll go home.”  Jeremy clumsily maneuvered himself out of the booth, one hand gripping the edge of the table as his vision spun.  He didn’t make it more than a few steps before he nearly collapsed.

Doc had been quick to follow him, catching him before he could hit the ground.  "You most certainly are not!" he scolded.

Jeremy let out a breath, letting his head slump against Doc’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut.  His head was protesting against his actions.

“I don’ feel too great.”  He didn’t protest as he was settled back into the booth.

“Which is exactly why you’ll be staying here tonight.”  Jeremy merely hummed in response. He focused on his breathing until he felt like he could open his eyes.

When he did he was surprised to find Doc on his side of the booth.  He didn’t have the energy to figure out his expression. Instead he picked up his juice again.  The top of the liquid rippled slightly from his trembling, and he merely stared at it, barely noticing Doc disappearing from his side.

He only noticed when he came back and offered him a straw.  Jeremy set the cup back down, adding the straw and sipping at the dark reddish liquid.  It made him think of blood and his stomach turned. The juice no longer seemed very appealing.

He swallowed hard, focusing on a random part of wall as he continued to drink it.  The silence stretched. Jeremy being quiet for this long was… it wasn’t something that happened.  

He ignored the way Doc eyed him in concern. He really didn’t have the energy.  He let himself lean against Doc’s side, spinning the straw in his cup.

He picked halfheartedly at the things Doc had brought him.  He knew he should eat them. He should…

He didn’t have the energy, he didn’t care.

“I— Can I go lay down?”  He barely paid attention to the answer, beyond that it was an agreement.  It was getting hard to keep his eyes open.

The events seemed to be melting together, but he found himself off the ground, right, walking wasn’t so much of a go right now.  And then he was being settled somewhere soft. That was good, that was nice. Distantly, he felt a hand run over his hair.

He let himself drift off into the darkness of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully people like this! Expect a sequel to this with the others finding out about what happened. When, I'm not sure, but eventually!


End file.
